


interlude no.1

by whisperedwords



Series: YingYang!verse [4]
Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedwords/pseuds/whisperedwords
Summary: E and O take a vacation to Miami during the offseason.(“I don’t know, E…I could show you a good time.”“How about,” Eli responds, “I show you a good time tonight, instead? I mean, if you’re up for it, that is.”)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I decided that this 'verse needed a little less angst. Did I overcompensate with a lot more fluff? You bet. But I'm a giant softie. I can't help it. It happens. (Feel free to [hit me up on Tumblr](http://grantgustin.tk) if you want to hear me yell more about these two and their gentle-ass love affair.)

The sun sets quietly, that night. There are no birds in the sky, no boats droning on in the distance—just the breeze whipping gently over the water. (Eli is thankful he saves his vacation days up as regularly as he does.)

“Hey, E,” Odell murmurs, rolling onto his side to face him. He looks beautiful, glowing between the soft sheets of the bed in their rented Miami hotel room. It’s instinct, the way Eli’s entire body moves in response to Odell’s voice, like he naturally gravitates towards his wide-receiver the same way the planets naturally fall into order around the sun. It’s easy. Odell is the sun, and he’s spread himself into an entire solar system. Returning to Earth, Eli tilts his head to face Odell, who’s half-propped up on the pillow. “Quit thinkin’ so much. I can _hear_ your brain working.” His hand reaches out and caresses Eli’s face, thumb lingering on Eli’s lips for a moment longer than necessary. The quarterback breaks into a smile.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “can’t help it.” Odell doesn’t say anything, but smiles in response, sleepy and relaxed. His thumb presses lightly against Eli’s lower lip. The palm of his hand is warm, and Eli turns his head again to plant a kiss directly in the center. He doesn’t miss the way Odell’s eyes flutter closed for a moment, or the way the smile on his face softens into a contented line. (It fills his heart in a way that not many other things can.) Both of them know there are probably better ways to take a week off from their chaotic, mostly-violent day job—but it doesn’t matter, really, because the way the fading light keeps pouring in through the thin curtains onto their limbs, curled together and almost glittering, going back to New Jersey is an afterthought. Eli’s lips curve into a smile against Odell’s palm.

“This is nice,” he murmurs. Which is, frankly, the understatement of the offseason; the view from their window looks like a painting, all sandy beaches and golden sunsets, the complete opposite of what April would be like back up north. Though his hand falls away from Eli’s face, Odell’s legs are warm against his beneath the cotton sheets, his smile is bright enough to light up the whole room, and yeah, _nice_ seems criminally simple. He doesn’t think there’s anywhere in the world he’d rather be. As if he can read minds, Odell bites his lower lip for a moment, then scoots closer, so that they’re practically chest-to-chest. Eli’s smile is instinctive.

“Yeah.” Odell doesn’t say much more, though the warmth of his breath continues to roll onto Eli’s lips. The words between them wouldn’t mean all that much, anyway—they’re much better with action. Action, like the way Eli takes Odell’s hand in his own, brings it back to his lips, and presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles, smiling as the other man’s face heats up. (They’re close enough that Eli can _feel_ the blush—his chest gets tight at the thought.) “Y’know, we could have some fun tonight. You, me, an entire city we can explore together.”

Eli laughs quietly as Odell twines their fingers together. “Haven’t you done enough exploring in Miami?” Odell snorts good-naturedly. “Besides.” He drops another kiss to Odell’s knuckles. “We’ve got the rest of the week here.”

“I don’t know, E…” His gaze moves beyond Eli for a moment, out into the sunset filling their hotel room with a faded orange light. The smile that plays on his face seems to be dangerous, for a moment, before it fades into something more serene. Eli can’t help but hold his breath at the beauty of it. “I could show you a good time.”

“How about,” Eli responds, shifting so that he’s on his stomach, “ _I_ show _you_ a good time tonight, instead?” He grins wickedly. “I mean, if you’re up for it, that is.” The last part brings the dangerous grin back to Odell’s face, and he giggles, burying his face into his pillow for a moment or two.

“You think you got what it takes, old man?” His voice is half-muffled by the cotton pillowcase, his eyes fixated on Eli, waiting for his reaction. Eli laughs brightly and lets go of Odell’s hand. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks down at the younger man, who’s currently fighting another fit of giggles. In an attempt to pull rank, he pretends to be disbelieving, raising an eyebrow at the comment.

“Old man, huh?” It would’ve been more effective had he been able to keep the smile out of his voice. Odell lifts his head out of the pillow. “Is _that_ what you think?”

“Yeah, that’s what I think.” His smile gets impossibly bigger. “You gonna show me or what?”

“I thought you wanted to show me a good time out on the town,” Eli replies teasingly. Still grinning, Odell shakes his head.

“Nah, changed my mind. Wanna see if my old man can make good on his word.” He pauses, pointedly ignoring the way Eli moves in a little closer to his face. “Maybe it’ll be a chance to work on some….skills training.”

The older man lets out a single chuckle. “ _Skills_ _training_?” He shifts so that he’s barely an inch away from Odell’s lips. “Thought we were on vacation.”

“Mmmm.” Pause. “This guy that I know always talks about putting time in both on _and_ off the field, so I figured, you know…” He bites his lip again, tries to make his smile less ridiculous. (He fails.) “Practice makes perfect?”

“Is this part of your offseason reform?” They’re practically on top of each other, now, Eli’s lips brushing against Odell’s with every word spoken. Odell doesn’t say anything, just hums in response. Eli shakes his head. Their noses bump. “Jesus, O. You always pick the worst times to be the bigger person.” He punctuates the sentence with a kiss, meant to be quick, but Odell clings to it, and it lingers on for a few seconds longer. They part with a soft sound.

“You wasn’t gonna be a _tease_ , was you?” Odell pulls Eli in closer with his arm. “Can’t do that to me. Mmmm, you know how I get…”

Eli hums contentedly as their noses bump again. “I’m just an old man, remember? I don’t think I could do _that_ much for you.” Odell shakes his head before pulling his quarterback down for another kiss, less innocent than the one before. The rumble at the back of his throat builds into a half-formed moan, which Eli files away for later—if this kind of banter is what gets his boyfriend going, it’s _gotta_ go in the Manning mental archive.

“Yeah,” Odell replies, his breathing the tiniest bit heavier, “but you’re _my_ old man. See? ‘s different.” His other hand drifts down to rest over Eli’s heart. “You’re always gonna do that to me.”

“Do what?” Eli plays dumb, watches Odell search his face for understanding before drifting back to his lips. He doesn’t say anything. “Mmmm?”

Odell cracks a smile. “Weren’t you just braggin’ about showin’ me a good time?”

“Are you not having a good time right now?” Eli dips down for another kiss. Odell’s grasp on him tightens, and he lets his weight sink down onto the younger man, who lets out a soft huff of air as their lips part for a split second. Their lips connect again, Eli more eager this time, but he pulls away in order to press a few biting kisses to his wide receiver’s jaw. Odell tilts his head up, exposing more skin to be attended to, and as Eli’s teeth nip him lightly, his breath hitches. (More data for Eli’s archive. If he’s lucky, soon it’ll start filling up even faster.)

“E—” It’s all he can say at the moment, really. Eli mumbles something into the crook of his neck before landing another toothy kiss to his hot skin, and Odell exhales shakily, curls his fingers in Eli’s hair. He’ll keep the commentary to himself for a little while.

Behind them, the sun sets fully; as their last light dissipates, the room falls into a comfortable blue, enveloping the two of them in a feeling of peacefulness—like the urgency of time has finally stopped frantically knocking at their door. Eli can feel it in the way Odell’s body is unwound, almost completely relaxed beneath his lavish attention—Odell can feel it in the way Eli’s kisses have slowed down, become deeper, more languid. He’s exploring, really—taking his time, as always: the unhurried approach, like he’s got all the time in the world.

One hand snakes between them, caresses Odell’s warm cock as it hardens beneath the quarterback’s touch. He inhales sharply. Eli’s lidded gaze blinks into one of concern for a moment, as their kiss breaks—it’s quickly discarded, though, as Odell’s parted lips pull him back into the moment, into the mood.

“How do you want it?” Eli asks as they’re breathing together. “What—what do you want?” His grip on Odell tightens just for a moment—the telling gasp at the pressure change points him towards the obvious answer.

“You—I, I want you.”

* * *

 “Stop lookin’ so smug.” Odell lightly bats Eli’s arm, though it doesn’t wipe the grin off his quarterback’s face. In fact, it achieves the opposite effect, and Eli’s smile gets so big he feels like it’s going to split his face in half. Despite the disgruntled nature of his words, Odell finds himself grinning back, unable to do anything but. “You ain’t shit.”

“Oh, _really_?” Eli’s lips are on his for a moment, more for show than for depth. “I’d say from the mess you just made, I lived up to my promise.”

“Shut up,” Odell replies, though his eyes drift to where his come had started to drip down Eli’s stomach. Arousal clenches in his belly, though it’s painful and makes him wince a little from the effort. Eli notices but doesn’t say anything. “You’re gonna be the death of me, old man.”

“Am I an old man if I give you that kind of orgasm regularly?”

“Regularly?” His voice goes up a little higher than he’d expected. “E, I ain’t come like that in _weeks_. Shit.” He pauses for effect. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Eli rolls onto his back next to him, that big smile still sitting pretty on his face. “You remember who gave you _that_ one, though?” The southern drawl twinges his voice again, in that way that Odell _knows_ he knows gets him riled up. _Jerk_.

“I, uh, seem to have forgotten.” He’s teasing, of course—he vividly remembers the way Eli had worked him last time, the way his hands had somehow been everywhere at once, pulling Odell all different directions, sending him out into space from the intensity of the orgasm. _‘God, I need a cigarette,’_ he’d joked afterwards, lying in that bed. Eli had laughed. Tonight feels the same.

“You’re pulling my leg,” Eli responds, sidling up so that they’re skin-to-skin once again. His chin rests on Odell’s shoulder. “’sides, even if you aren’t, _Jesus_. I’m so worn out I don’t even _remember_ if it was me.”

At that, Odell turns his head. “Throwin’ in the towel?” He means to be teasing, but there’s a tiredness in his voice that he knows Eli can hear. They’re cut from the same cloth—it’s only natural, for them to be able to read each other so well.

“Mmm, yeah, O. Sorry.” He yawns for effect. “I’m gettin’ old, y’know. Gotta catch some sleep if we wanna make it in time for the early bird specials in the morning.” Odell snorts.

“We headed to IHOP?”

“Think they’ll give me a senior discount if we do?”

Odell hums, pretending to ponder his boyfriend’s sentiment. “I mean, ‘f you can only make it one round? I guess that means I gotta find your AARP card.” Eli laughs quietly, but doesn’t respond. Odell turns on his side, so that he’s facing the other man. “You know I love you, right?” His voice is soft. It hadn’t been necessary, to say—but it felt right. If Odell is being honest, he likes the way that the words taste in his mouth—familiar, warm, but also new in a way, too. “‘cause I do. Like, a lot.”

Eli hums and snakes his arm around Odell’s waist, tugs him closer than before. (Is it possible? To be closer than _this_? Odell doubts it, but wouldn’t be surprised if he were wrong. Eli’d been the exception to everything—why should the laws of physics be any different?) “I love you too,” he replies sleepily. Tilting his head, he presses a kiss to Odell’s forehead and lets his lips linger. “Like, a lot.”

“You think you’re cute, huh?” Odell can feel the wave of exhaustion hitting him, too—it’s like Eli’s got this frequency he’s always set to, and no matter what Eli’s feeling, well, that’s what Odell is feeling too. Convenient, sometimes. Frustrating, others. Eli doesn’t respond to the taunting, though—all the wide receiver can feel is the way his lips stretch into a smile right above his eyebrows, like a mark. E hums again. “You’re lucky.”

“Yeah,” he answers. “But I mean, who wouldn’t admit _that_ , having you at their side?”

They lie together in silence for a few moments, the warm air settling over them like another blanket. Odell tries to stir from its grip one last time. “Damn, 10, am I just your trophy boyfriend?”

More quiet laughter. “Yeah, O. Better than a Lombardi.” His grip on Odell’s waist tightens once more, and then he’s quiet. Always the first to fall asleep, dammit.

To the quiet night, Odell lets out a soft sigh before settling in next to him. “Thought so."

**Author's Note:**

> (PS! I've decided I'll update this 'verse monthly, seeing as the audience for these two isn't big enough to justify more than that. Questions? Comments? Concerns? Again, hit me up.)


End file.
